Even Now
by Feilyn
Summary: Narcissa hates the narcissus flower. It reminds her of Bellatrix. Yet week after week, she brings one to her husband's grave and muses on her family, battles, and the elusive power of love. 'So here I stand, defiantly dressed in yet another black dress.'


Mentions of slash, but I'm sure you'll deal –grins–

I don't own what I don't own, and I do what I do. Lmao, kay?

Hope you enjoy!

.:X:.

_I never told him – well, he never told me, so we are equal. But he felt it, even as I did._

_Even as I do._

_Oh, blessed cold, protect me from my own feelings. He was a steel bar, strong and full of pride, and yet…_

_And yet unable to bend his neck when he knew he was beaten. Not even to me._

_So here I stand, at his grave staring down at the narcissus' I left last time._

_I hate them. For some odd reason, they remind me of my sister. Not Andromeda, with whom I now exchange uneasy letters, but Bellatrix._

_I don't visit her grave._

_But Lucius loved the narcissus, so I will continue bringing them until he asks me not to._

.:X:.

_There should be no grave. My husband's ashes should be flying on the North Wind, like the ashes of his forefathers, but the Cold Fire would not take him. The Fire that has taken Malfoy's and Black's, Rosier's and Lestrange's…_

_It would not take my husband._

_I do not know whether this means, at the end of it all, he repented his choice and broke his vows…_

_Or if he simply did not measure up._

_Oath-breakers and cowards. And, of course, those of the Light. The Cold Fire refuses them all._

_I hope with all my heart it was the first. That when the time came, he chose me and our love over his pride._

_Perhaps it is better not to know these things. At least in this uncertain state, I have hope._

.:X:.

_Draco does not come here. I know Harry urges him to, for closure if nothing else, but there is no love in my son's heart for the father that was always ice, always aloof. Who did not appear to love him in return._

_Contrary to popular belief, Lucius never laid a hand – or wand – on Draco. He would have been horrified at the mere suggestion of child abuse. Draco was his heir, and more precious to him then life itself._

_Draco does not know that Lucius saved his life._

.:X:.

_I remember the Final Battle well. Harry, with his leg mangled beyond repair and pale from blood loss, the only thing keeping him up his arm around my exhausted son and smiling. _Smiling _at Voldemort, who couldn't understand how, when the Order and its allies had lost so many men and women during the course of the Second War, the Chosen One could still be smiling._

_Most people who saw it thought it was because Harry knew he was about to win, but I know better. He explained it to me later, that gentle smile still playing about his lips as he leaned against Draco's chest while my son played with his hair._

A power the Dark Lord knows not…

_Harry's love for my son and Draco's love for him was that unknown power. Love, a concept so simple and so complex and so _alien _that the selfish Voldemort could not comprehend it. Even though Draco was about to collapse, he was there for Harry where no other could be, keeping him upright and _alive_, feeding the Boy-Who-Lived raw magic from his own core as Harry fulfilled his destiny. _

_Another sacrifice Voldemort lacked the ability to understand._

.:X:.

_Three months after the Final Battle, after several skirmishes that grew increasingly difficult on the part of the dwindling Death Eaters, came the Last Stand._

_How I loathe those two words. It is, of course, utterly irrational, for they are only words, but nonetheless I hate them with a passion that borders almost on holy._

_There was a choice that was no choice, and it was not mine to make. Either I would have lost my husband or my son that day, and when Fate rolled the dice, Lucius lost the bet._

_Draco, as it were, had his back turned when his father sacrificed himself. He didn't know about Lucius' death under the war could only be called well and truly over, and he still has no idea of the circumstances. He didn't want to know._

_He didn't care._

.:X:.

_So here I stand, defiantly dressed in yet another black dress, grey veil fluttering in the wind. I've been told it is reminiscent of the Veil in the Department of Mysteries that took my cousin from the world by those who accept my choice. Others…well. I have been questioned, berated, even abused for my choice of clothing since my husband's death, but I remain steadfast._

I_ am no oath-breaker._

_My marriage vows require me to wear the mourning veil and the colour black for a year and a day, as is proper. After that time is up, I will put aside the veil, signifying myself eligible if not willing for remarriage._

_But, although it is not required…I do not believe I will put aside the black._

.:X:.

_The narcissus falls from my hands._

"Even now, Lucius. Even now, I love you. Sleep in peace, my husband."

.:X:.

_Ehm…review? Please? I quite proud of this little piece, even if it was only written to get me in the mood. I hope you liked it as much as I do._


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